


can you keep me close (can you love me most?)

by fandomnerd



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gen, Religion, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomnerd/pseuds/fandomnerd
Summary: four times saccharina is an inconvenience, and one time she is loved exactly for who she is
Relationships: Saccharina Frostwhip & Rocks Family, Saccharina Frostwhip/Annabelle Cheddar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	can you keep me close (can you love me most?)

**Author's Note:**

> man do you ever just fall in love with a character so hard and so fast that you write over 4k words of fanfiction in two days even though you have Adult Responsibilities to handle? no? just me? okay
> 
> anyway, i would die for saccharina frostwhip and i have eighteen million thoughts and feelings about her. so. this is the result of that.
> 
> title is from someone to stay by vancouver sleep clinic

1.

Saccharina is four years old, barely a scoop tall, and her mama is going to be _so_ excited when she sees what she can do.

She knows that things are rough, that her mama has been under a lot of stress and is almost never home, that people whisper about them in town. But all of that’s going to change! Because Saccharina can do _magic_ now.

She’s not completely sure how to get from point A (being able to do cool magic stuff!) to point B (making money and being able to put food on the table), but her mama can do _anything_ —she can even make a Prince fall in love with her! Surely she’ll know how to do that. As soon as she sees how cool and impressive her magic is, Saccharina’s sure her mama will be totally amazed and heap praises on her. It’s never happened before, but this is _magic_ —this time her mom will be proud for _sure_.

She wiggles her fingers again just to admire the little burst of cold magic that poofs up around her face, glittering and sweet-smelling.

She hears the door to their small house open, and a wide grin splits her face as she runs from the bedroom.

“Mama! Mama! Guess what!”

She barrels into her mama’s legs, wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug. One of her mama’s hands pats her head tiredly. “Let go, sweetheart, your mama’s very tired.”

Saccharina pulls back immediately, and her mama sinks into a chair, letting out a long sigh. After an eternity of Saccharina bouncing on her toes impatiently, mama finally turns to look at her.

“So? What did you do now?”

Saccharina’s smiling so hard it almost hurts her face.

“I’m _magic!_ ”

She doesn’t see the way horror twists Catherine’s features, too focused on replicating her spell from earlier. Reaching out, she aims a hand at a small cheese-wood figure in the corner, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. She summons the feeling of the magic bubbling inside of her, calling it to the surface. And then, in a streak of cool sweetness, a ray of frost emerges, encasing the figure in a thin veneer of ice.

She beams up at her mom, proud. “Isn’t that—"

She never gets the chance to finish her sentence, her words cut off by the sting of her mama’s slap. “ _Never_ do that again!”

Her heart sinks in her chest at the sight of her mama’s terror and fury, so far from the pride she’d been hoping for. “But I—”

“No buts! Bulb, as if things weren’t bad enough already. What am I supposed to do with _this?_ Why couldn’t you have gotten something more useful from your father?”

Mama descends into muttering, lost in her own thoughts, as Saccharina slinks away.

2.

Saccharina is ten years old, and she knows better than to use her magic around the nuns by now, all-too-familiar with the lash of their milk-silk flogs. Instead, she practices only when she’s utterly alone, delighting in the whispery tickle of frost at her fingertips when she’s in confinement, savoring the rare dreams of Aunt Lazuli when they come to her.

She hates it at the nunnery, wants to be literally anywhere else, but she has nowhere else to go. She has no idea where her mother is, no money, and the other kids are too scared of getting punished alongside her to be her friends, no matter how hard she tries.

Today, though, is special. Today’s a festival day, which means plays and feasts and no chores, even for her. She might even get to play with kids from the town, kids who don’t know who she is and don’t pre-judge her.

She puts on the nicest of her three threadbare outfits, the one for when there are important visitors to the orphanage and the nuns want them to make a good impression. Her hands tremble with the force of the excitement buzzing inside her, even though usually she _hates_ wearing dresses. She’s the last of the girls to wake up, like usual, so the dormitory is already empty by the time she finishes dressing.

There’s no food left in the mess hall by the time she gets there, but she doesn’t let it discourage her. It’s a festival day! There’s bound to be a stall with some snacks she can pilfer, and if she can’t, there’s still the midday feast to look forward to. She can stand to be hungry for a few hours.

She wanders out into the courtyard, looking around for the others, and finds them gathered in front of a puppet show, laughing. She perks up, half-running before she remembers that she was sent to bed without dinner the last time the nuns caught her acting so “unladylike.” She’s still not very tall yet, and stuck all the way in the back since she was late, so she has to stand on her tippy-toes, occasionally jumping to see over the older kids’ shoulders.

“’It’s Saint Citrina! Quick, kill her—it’s sure to be a terrible blow to good people of the church!’ shouted a meatlands savage, and they charged her!” The puppet of the meatlander is truly grotesque, and Saccharina gasps right alongside the other kids.

“And so Prince Amethar the Unfallen looked on the remains of his kingdom, and saw the destruction that had been wrought in the name of these false gods, and swore his loyalty to the Bulb, joining the Concordant Emperor Uvano in bringing peace to the land.”

Her heart swells with pride, a grin splitting her face as she listens to the tale of her father’s heroism. For as long as she can remember, all she’s wanted is to be just like him.

Unfortunately, she isn’t able to listen for long—she’s barely been there a few minutes before a hand grabs the back of her collar, dragging her away from the fun. She squirms around, indignant, and comes face to face with her least favorite nun: Sister Clabber.

She finds herself set down in a shadowy corner away from the others, and adopts a shamefaced expression. Sometimes, if she seems remorseful _before_ they yell at her, they’ll go easier on her—even though she’s not really sure why she’s in trouble.

“You’re _late_ , Miss Ghee.”

“I know, Sister Clabber, I’m sorry.”

“And your conduct at the play? Unacceptable. You must accept responsibility for your mistakes: being late means you have to stand at the back and wait like a good girl—not lose all sense of decorum and start hopping all over the place.”

“Yes, Sister Clabber, I understand. I’m sorry.” The nun actually seems like she might be lenient this time, nodding and even smiling a little bit, if only Saccharina could keep her damn mouth shut. Unfortunately, she’s not great at that. “It’s just…”

Sister Clabber’s expression freezes, then pulls into a frown. “Are you talking back to me, Miss Ghee?”

“No, not at all, Sister Clabber! It’s just that…King Amethar is my _father_ and I wanted to—”

The older woman’s face goes absolutely incandescent with rage.

“This again? And in _public?_ I thought we’d finally managed to beat this ridiculous delusion out of you.”

“It’s not a delusion! He’s my father!” She should stop, she _knows_ she should stop, but the swirling storm of emotions in her heart won’t be denied. Squinting through the blustering winds, Saccharina sees Sister Clabber’s eyes go wide, sees her cheeks flush yellow in fury. For once the temperature doesn’t make her feel like she’s going to melt, frost settling over her.

 _Oh_ , she realizes. _I’m causing this._ As soon as she does, it feels glaringly obvious: the storm inside her isn’t just her messy, tangled emotions, but _magic_.

She looks into Sister Clabber’s eyes again, and as good as it feels to tap into all that power, the anger in those eyes cuts her off at the knees. The winds die down, the frost settling and melting, leaving no traces behind. Just a serene stillness to the day, and Sister Clabber’s hand tangling in Saccharina’s hair, dragging her all the way back to the nunnery.

3.

Saccharina is sixteen years old and in love.

Annabelle is the most amazing person she’s ever met, and for the first time in her life she feels…seen. Respected. Loved, even, which is _extremely_ new.

Of course, she hasn’t told Annabelle about her magic yet. She’s been on the fence about it for a while: she’s fairly confident that Annabelle won’t react as harshly as her mother or the church has, but she’s been burned before. Besides which, Annabelle is a Princess. Once she knows about Saccharina, she won’t have plausible deniability anymore.

But it hurts, keeping it a secret from Annabelle, and she’s tired of it. She knows she’s just an orphan, someone no one’s ever wanted enough to keep around for very long, and she doesn’t have much to offer. Doesn’t even have a roof over her head since she ran away from the orphanage.

(And she doesn’t regret it, not even a little bit, because living on the street is better than spending even one more day forced to pray to the _Bulb_. It’s just…it doesn’t exactly make her a great romantic prospect.)

But her magic…she knows her magic is impressive. She wants to walk by Annabelle’s side as equals, regardless of status, and maybe with her magic she can do that.

She’s startled out of her thoughts by arms wrapping around her waist from behind, a familiar voice at her ear. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Saccharina smiles reflexively, leaning back into the other girl. “I was just thinking about going to see you, actually. I thought you had lessons today?”

Annabelle lets go, moving into her field of vision. She’s smirking, adorably smug as she pretends to buff her nails on her shirt. “Sneaking away from my tutors? Child’s play.”

She laughs, swaying into Annabelle’s side. “Aren’t you afraid of getting in trouble?”

“Nah, I already know everything they can teach me. They know it, too—Da says I’m a more proper heir than they’ve had in generations, even though I’m not a son.”

Saccharina believes it. Annabelle can do absolutely anything she sets her heart on. And she loves Annabelle, is happy that she gets that sort of praise, so she tucks away that piece of her soul that aches and cries for a parent to give her the same.

(Maybe, one day, if she meets King Amethar—)

“That’s great,” she says instead. “He’d have to be crazy not to see how amazing you are.”

Annabelle preens, planting a kiss on Saccharina’s cheek. Butterscotchflies erupt in her stomach, reminiscent of the storm inside her, the one that she—even after years of practice—has trouble controlling when her emotions get the better of her. (But this is better. Sweeter. Less property-damage-inducing.)

“So I’m yours for the day—at least until they send someone to drag me back, anyway. Anything you’d like to do?”

Saccharina bites her lip, staring into Annabelle’s eyes, losing herself in their warmth.

She makes a decision.

“Actually, there _was_ something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh, was there now?”

“Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ sound, smirking at the way it draws Annabelle’s focus to her lips. “But we have to find someplace private. Isolated.”

Annabelle nods, still distracted. “I know a place.”

Hands linked, they make their way to a private stretch of beach, mottled with rocky cliff faces.

Annabelle turns to Saccharina expectantly, eyes alight with mischief. “Well? What’s this big surprise, then?”

Saccharina breathes in once, twice, tries to calm her racing heart at the thought of what she’s about to do. “Remember how I told you about…about my parents?”

Annabelle’s expression grows sympathetic. “Aye, about your mum and King Amethar?”

Saccharina swallows thickly, nods. “Well, I…there’s something…”

She can feel the magic swirling inside of her, ready to be called forth at a moment’s notice. She just has to…do it.

Annabelle squeezes her hand, runs a thumb across her knuckles. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you. Always.”

Saccharina offers a tremulous smile, then steels her nerve. She extends a hand, and in a gesture as easy as breathing, releases a ray of frost onto the stretch of empty beach.

It takes every ounce of courage she can muster to turn to look at Annabelle, but she manages. Her girlfriend stands wide-eyed, mouth dropped slightly open in astonishment. “What…what was _that?_ ”

Okay, maybe not the best response, but at least she’s not pulling away. Saccharina can work with that. “Magic. I have magic.”

Annabelle’s brow furrows in confusion. “But I thought…I mean, the church says…”

“Oh, trust me, I know _exactly_ what the church has to say about magic.” She breathes deeply, squeezes Annabelle’s hand. “But look at me. I’m the same person I always was. You _know_ me.”

Annabelle closes her eyes, lips thinning as she thinks it over. Saccharina feels the impulse to talk more, to explain, to entreat Annabelle to understand, but instead she stays quiet, giving her the time to process.

When Annabelle opens her eyes again, they’re clear. She smiles at Saccharina, squeezes her hand. “Thank you for trusting me with this.” Her lips quirk teasingly. “I can’t believe you managed to keep a secret this big. I’m actually a little impressed.”

The absolute relief that washes over her nearly sends Saccharina to her knees. “So you don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you.”

They smile at each other for a long moment, before Saccharina lets her excitement get the better of her. “I’m so glad you think it’s cool! I haven’t had much of a chance to learn or train, so I don’t know anything _really_ interesting—mostly it’s just like, feelings that I can manifest into reality? It’s hard to explain. But once I can actually study it, I’m gonna be a really cool powerful sorceress, and my dad will be super impressed and acknowledge me! And I’ll become the crown Princess and your dad can stop trying to arrange your marriage because what could be a more advantageous marriage than the _future Queen of Candia_?”

Annabelle watches her ramble with her usual fondness, but the set of her eyes is sad.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason. That would be amazing if it happened, not least because you deserve a relationship with your Da…but even if it does, there’s no way _my_ Da will wait that long. He’s been getting pushier and pushier lately—if I make it to my eighteenth saint’s day without a betrothal, it’ll be a miracle.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ve been thinking about this too. If I can’t marry you, I don’t want to marry at all. And like I said earlier, Da’s been saying how impressive I am. I can rule on my own, I don’t _need_ to marry. And I plan on telling him so.”

In the moment, the words are the sweetest Saccharina’s ever heard, her heart soaring with finally, finally being enough for someone. Finally being _chosen_ , being _wanted_. She wraps her arms around Annabelle, pulling her into a kiss so fierce it feels like they’re melting together, becoming something no force in the world could pull apart.

The next day, news reaches Saccharina that Annabelle has been disinherited. Apparently, an heir who refuses to marry is no heir at all, even if she _is_ as extraordinary as Annabelle.

That night she convinces a ship’s captain to take her on as a crewman, and hopes it’s not too late for Annabelle to reclaim what she’s lost.

(She should’ve known better than to think someone as precious as Annabelle was meant for her, that she’d found someone she could keep. Should’ve known that she’d ruin it, the way the storm inside her ruins everything.)

4.

Saccharina is twenty-six, a woman grown, a Queen in her own right. The legal Queen of Candia, even. She should be well-past the desire for acceptance, that yearning for unconditional love that she’s long since come to understand she’ll never have. If she’s learned anything in her life, it’s that by nature of her birth (or, she thinks in her darker days, simply by some defect of her personality) she is owed nothing, _deserves_ nothing intrinsically. She’ll have to _earn_ that which is so freely given to others.

And she’s made peace with that, largely. She’s put in the time and effort to recruit her marauders, has freed others like herself and fought against the tyranny of the church. She has Gooey and Jon Bon and Swifty (but mostly Gooey) standing loyally by her side. She doesn’t _need_ anything else, except to destroy the church and bring about a new age of magic.

Yet even now, in a childish, optimistic corner of her heart she’s yet to harden, she holds out hope that maybe _now_ , after all she’s done, she might be impressive enough to earn the love of her father, perhaps the admiration of her younger sisters. Or if not yet, then maybe after she takes down the church—if she can solve this current problem, this whole mess with the Concord going to war with Candia, maybe that will be enough.

And then the party arrives, dragged in by her well-meaning followers, and that hope flickers and dims.

She tries—spirits, she _tries_. She tells them about herself, tries to make clear how useful she could be to them, if only they’d give her the chance. Tries to explain her past to Ruby, tries to extend an olive branch, attempts to mend fences that she wasn’t even the one to break in the first place. She tries not to take it personally when Amethar throws the crown at her feet, when he speaks to her like a stranger, like she’s just another person trying to _take_ something from him when that is the absolute last thing she wants. It hurts, but she powers through.

None of it seems to make a difference to him or Ruby, though.

Caramelinda takes Ruby for a private meal, and Saccharina gives them what they need—space, privacy, time, good food and a hot bath—despite the way jealousy claws at her throat at the sight of a mother who so clearly loves her daughter, despite how _small_ she feels under their gazes.

Saccharina waits until they’re gone, until the others have begun partaking of the feast she’s prepared, to take Amethar aside—one last ditch effort at building bridges. (One last attempt to apologize for existing, for not being enough, never being enough, and maybe this time it’ll do the trick, maybe apart from his wife and daughter he’ll acknowledge her—)

“You are currently the greatest boon that Candia has…it’s just that we have been through so much, and have so little love in our hearts to give.” _So little love in our hearts to give—and none of it for you._

And just like that, the hope extinguishes. She barely registers the rest of the conversation as the knowledge finally sinks in that she’ll have to earn the love of this family with blood and sweat and tears, just like she’s had to earn everything else.

So she pastes a smile on her face, clapping her hands together, because there’s no time to dwell—not if she ever wants to be seen as more than an inconvenience.

1.

Saccharina is twenty-seven, the first tendrils of the Bulb’s morning light are just peeking over the tops of the stone candy mountains, and she can’t sleep. She’s not sure she’s ever felt so sick with nerves in her life.

It’s her coronation day, and despite the fact that she’s been the acting Queen for the past year, something about today is _different_. Amethar and Ruby are coming all the way from Comida, with all the fanfare expected from the Concordant Emperor. Saccharina hasn’t seen them in months, which just adds another layer of anticipation and anxiety to this whole thing.

Despite the earliness of the hour, Gooey is nowhere to be found. Most likely she’s off coordinating the day’s events with Caramelinda, or going over the guard rotation yet again. She’s been nervous about the security of the coronation for nearly as long as they’ve been planning it, convinced that assassins will be lurking around every corner.

Saccharina, personally, is less worried about an assassination attempt than she is about completely making a fool of herself at the coronation, or messing up her inaugural address. Caramelinda had helped her write it, so she trusts the content, but there are still so many ways it could all go terribly wrong.

Warm, familiar arms slip around her waist from behind and pull her out of her reverie, soft lips planting sleepy kisses along her shoulder. “What are you doing awake already, Your Majesty?”

Saccharina rolls her eyes through a smile, spinning in her wife’s arms to face her. “Call me that again and I’ll make you the royal jester.”

Annabelle preens like she’s sixteen again. Saccharina’s heart flops over in her chest. “I would make a most excellent jester, if that’s what Her Majesty so desired.”

She groans, wrapping her arms around Annabelle in return, and buries her face into the crook of her neck. “Seriously, stop calling me that. I’m nervous enough about today as it is.”

Annabelle presses another kiss to the top of her head, soothing her hands along Saccharina’s back. “What’s there to be nervous about? You’ve been Queen for a year already. This is just a formality.”

“I know that, but I’m _terrible_ at formalities. That’s literally the thing I’m worst at.”

Annabelle snorts. “Aye, that’s true, but your work speaks for itself. You’re an excellent Queen, and the people know it. And you’ve got a whole team of people who aren’t going to let you look bad.” She pauses, considers. “Plus, your marauders will fight anyone who says anything remotely negative about you.”

“That’s one of the things I’m worried about!” She pulls back, looking up at Annabelle with wide, worried eyes. “Promise me you and your crew will keep them from fighting anyone.”

“On my honor as a sea captain, your will be done, my Queen.” She cracks a smile, looking so handsome Saccharina could just curl up and die on the spot. “Now come back to bed.”

As much as she wants to, she shakes her head. “There’s too much to do.”

Annabelle sighs, shaking her head with a rueful smile. “Aye, that’s what I thought you’d say. Very well, then, I’ll go have the kitchen staff prepare breakfast.” She takes a step back, keeping her knowing eyes locked on Saccharina’s. “Try not to work yourself too hard?”

“I’ll… _try_.”

They share one last kiss, and then she goes off in search of Caramelinda.

The morning passes in a whirl of last-minute planning and dress fittings and mishaps, her anxiety ramping up with each until Caramelinda finally sends her off to her chambers with instructions to just _relax_ and let the rest of them handle things. She supposes that’s fair—she’d been about a hair’s breadth from accidentally setting the grand hall awash with frost.

It’s only when she arrives that she realizes her stepmother might have had ulterior motives…which she discovers right as she walks into an invisible wall. An invisible wall that’s…hugging her?

Her first thought is: who _in all of Calorum helped the fucking Emperor sneak away from his retinue?_ Then, a familiar voice: “It’s not like I’m happy to see you or anything…but congratulations on your coronation, I guess.”

She pulls back out of Amethar’s crushing hug, beaming, eyes darting around the room for—there! “I’m impressed, little sister. Casting invisibility on multiple people isn’t easy.”

“Whatever! I wasn’t _trying_ to impress you!”

But she feels two skinny arms pull her into a hug anyway, and does her best to suppress her grin, knowing it’ll just make Ruby more embarrassed.

The invisibility fades, and Amethar stands proudly, teary-eyed and smiling down at her in a way that makes her breath catch. “Uh. Hi, Dad. Thanks for coming.”

He shakes his head, pulling her into another hug. “I’m _so_ fucking proud of you, Rina. I know Laz would be, too.”

She swallows, tries to keep herself calm and collected. She can’t afford to get emotional right now. “Thanks,” she repeats, “That means a lot.”

He pulls back this time, leaving his hands planted on her shoulders, and looks her straight in the eye. “You’ve got this, Saccharina. You’re a great Queen, the people love you, and _we_ love you. This is exactly what you’re meant to do, and _you_ are exactly who you’re meant to be.”

The quiet voice of her sister behind her echoes the sentiment, albeit begrudgingly.

And for the first time in her life, Saccharina thinks it might be _true_.


End file.
